


Glitter

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [6]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Glitter, I can't write PWP, M/M, Oblivious, Undercover Mission, What am I doing, author is hopeless, strip club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:50:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Aw, fuck me!"<br/>"It would be my pleasure," comes over the comms and Clint rolls his eyes. If only.<br/>"Very funny, Barnes," he grumbles. "There's fucking glitter everywhere!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glitter

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to be unable to write PWP. *awkward laughter*
> 
> Based on [this post](http://wormdelivre.tumblr.com/post/131287638077/captainkittysparrow-switchheart-hawkeye-was).

"Aw, fuck me!"

"It would be my pleasure," comes over the comms and Clint rolls his eyes. If only.

"Very funny, Barnes," he grumbles. "There's fucking glitter _everywhere_!"

Barnes snorts in his ear and why is that sound so sexy, it really shouldn't be. Clint's dick twitches in his hand as he prepares to relieve himself, his stripper thong wrapped around his knees. SHIELD's been trying to slip a tracker onto a weapons dealer for months now, and the one opportunity they had was at this strip club. Incidentally, Clint and Barnes were already in the area, wrapping up another mission. Clint's gone in, Barnes outside on a rooftop, and they've finished in less than an hour. Clint sighs. This is going to take forever to scrub off.

"Why couldn't you be the stripper?" he whines.

There's a moment of silence and fuck. Clint should really think before speaking sometimes. He's been with Barnes on several missions so far, and the man always steps out of the room to change. Clint's seen the file and the scars. He imagines Barnes doesn't find it very pleasant to display.

"I'm too good looking, Barton," comes back, a little choked.

Clint wants the lightness back in the conversation.

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna save you next time. I'm pissing glitter, for fucks sake!"

A hearty laugh follows and Clint smiles to himself. It twists something in him, the way Barnes laughs with Clint sometimes. He's never seen Barnes laugh like that while with the team. True, Clint doesn't know how he is with Steve, but Clint's going to get what he can and ignore the way he _wants_ Barnes. And not just for a quick fumble. Clint is so fucked.

"What color is it?" Barnes asks, sounding amused, and Clint definitely does not think of how the words vibrate low in his ear.

"Purple," he says before flushing.

"Looks good on you," Barnes' voice echoes in his ear and it's not coming through the comm.

Clint can barely let out an undignified squeak, before arms wrap around him from behind, and his dick actually fills this time. He stills, Barnes' fingertips pressing into the muscles of Clint's hips, and he can't stop it, can't make his dick behave. _Fuck_.

"Very good," Barnes murmurs low and hot right on the shell of Clint's ear.

"Look," he manages, swallowing around his dry throat, "this is n--"

He's being turned around suddenly, and his back hits the door of the stall. Barnes' face doesn't give anything away, and he pins Clint with his focused gaze, the one he has right before he's taking a shot. But then he moves, takes Clint's lips between his, pushes them open. He's kissing like a hungry man, and it takes Clint a moment to understand what's happening. It's confusing, but he's been dreaming about those lips for weeks and now that they're _kissing_ him, he's going to enjoy it. A moan travels up his throat and Barnes pushes away, his hands clutching tightly at Clint's naked shoulders.

Fuck, did Clint screw this up?

Instead, Barnes lets out a long exhale through his nose, a small growl at the end of it, and it drives another moan out of Clint. Barnes grins, the edges of his teeth glinting in the neon light of the bathroom. He ruffles through a pocket, but Clint can't look away from his gaze, holding him there, as if saying _'you're mine_.' There are fingers on Clint's dick, drawing a shiver out of him, before a condom rolls wetly around him.

The next second, Barnes is down on his knees, his lips wrapped around the head of Clint's dick over the condom. His mouth looks divine, chapped lips over the purple glitter trapped beneath the latex, and Clint involuntarily thrusts forward. His knees go weak when his dick just smoothly slides in, hitting the back of Barn-- James' throat.

James, his name is James, and he's swallowing, pushing closer until his nose touches the skin of Clint's abdomen. James' eyes roll in his head, and he rumbles deep while pulling out, lips wrapped tightly around Clint. He does it again, and again, holding onto Clint's hips, pulling at Clint. It looks like he's fucking his own mouth and Clint shakes from every joint.

"James, James, James, fuck..." Clint mumbles, voice cracking in the middle of every sound.

James slides his mouth off of Clint then, lets him go with a long swipe of his tongue, and he's grinning up at Clint, a challenge in his eyes.

"Fuck," Clint breathes again, his heart rabbiting behind his ribcage.

James licks his lips, a stray trace of glitter on the corner of his mouth, and Clint throws every bit of caution to the wind. He fists one hand in James' hair, because he still needs the other one to hold himself up, leaning onto James' shoulder, and he pushes himself in James' mouth again.

It's hot and wet and fucking delightful. And his eyes, looking at Clint as if he's the only thing worth looking at. It occurs to Clint, then, that the playful gaze James' been giving him has been gradually changing into something serious, something real, and Clint stutters in his thrusts, pulls away. Is it possible that maybe James wants the same as Clint?

He lets go of James' hair to run his thumb over his cheek, and James' face falls a little with apprehension.

"This can't be just one fuck," Clint rasps.

James' eyes widen minutely before his lips curl into a bright smile. He lets his forehead fall against Clint's abdomen, a relieved huff of laughter followed by James' arms wrapping around his middle.

Clint shifts to pet the top of James' head, trying to slow the frantic beating of his heart, because this is suddenly real. James wants Clint right back. He pulls at James' shoulders, hooking his fingers under the edges of his vest.

"Come here," he urges, and James follows easily.

It's Clint's turn to kiss James as if he's air, but James returns it with renewed urgency. Clint's lips are going to bruise.

He fumbles with the fastenings of James' belt, and he doesn't realize his fingers are shaking until James' hands join in, helping, and soon his pants are shoved down around his thighs. James is hard as he presses himself close to Clint, and Clint moans in his mouth. Frantic movement follows until they manage to wrap a hand each around their shafts, fingers touching. James is holding Clint up with his metal arm wrapped around his middle, and Clint's other hand ends up back in James' hair.

It's too fast and uncoordinated and fucking _amazing_ , and Clint laughs against James' shoulder on the trails of his orgasm. James mouths at Clint's neck, pressing his own chuckles into Clint's skin.

With a crackle, their comms come to life, bringing Stark's voice in their ears.

"Hello boys, I heard you could use a ride."

Clint groans and James presses a peck on his lips while thumbing the unit on.

"Yeah, thanks," James says.

The smile he's turning to Clint, warm and light, makes Clint tremble.

James rattles off the coordinates of the roof they had chosen before starting the mission, and then they're making their way back up there, slipping out through the window of the bathroom. James' is like a fucking feline, perfectly agile and competent, even after coming all over Clint, while Clint's fumbling, knees still weak. But James keeps him steady, keeps clutching at Clint, almost as if he's afraid Clint's going to change his mind. Clint needs to fix that, he's not going anywhere.

"I'm in love with you," Clint says as he pulls out clothes from his bag.

A clatter and he turns to see James standing there, wide eyed, the pieces of the dismantled rifle on the ground in front of him, hands frozen in mid air. He doesn't move, not even a blink, for long moments.

Fuck. Maybe Clint's been reading this all wrong.

But James' hand shoots to press itself against his own chest, and then he's striding over, purposefully. He grabs at Clint, wrapping himself around him, and it's so tight Clint can barely breathe.

"Me too," James whispers against his ear, low and soft.

Clint clutches right back.

Stark announcing his approach makes them separate, too soon for Clint's liking, but a trip in Tony's custom quinjet is going to be shorter than anything, and they'll be alone again sooner rather than later. Clint hurries to get dressed while James removes the heavy vest and coat of his suit, leaving him in a back t-shirt, then packs the rest of their weapons. The summer air is balmy and Clint doesn't fault him for wanting the gear off.

The small smile that settles on James' lips doesn't fade away, not even after they greet Steve and Bruce sitting in the back of the aircraft. They're covered in black dust, and Tony doesn't look too good himself, as he rises from his pilot seat to meet them.

"What happened to you?" James asks just as Tony says "I hear there was a strip club involved."

"Coal mine," Steve says, waving a hand at himself with a grimace.

"Comes off easier than glitter," Clint mutters.

Tony's eyes light up at that. Dammit. His eyebrows shoot up as he looks between Clint and James. Dammit again.

"You got some left," Tony tells James, circling his index finger around his own mouth. "What'd you do, blow Barton?"

"Sure did," James replies without pause, "it was glorious."

He grins and Tony chokes on nothing, coughing bent at the middle. From his seat, Steve laughs loudly, and Bruce squints his eyes in confusion for a brief moment before chuckles take over him as well.

Clint huffs with amusement. He doesn't expect James to acknowledge their not-even-started relationship yet, so the arm James wraps around his shoulders is surprising. James takes a seat then, pulling Clint along, and presses his lips against Clint's temple.

A beat, as everyone suddenly watches in silence, and Clint can feel his cheeks heating under their stares.

"Finally?" Steve says and it sounds a lot like a question.

"Mhm," James hums, nodding his head.

It makes Steve break into a wide grin. Clint's heart flutters with relief, and he hadn't been aware he'd needed Steve's approval. But he guesses Steve is James' family, so there is that. He turns a smile to Steve and gets a wink in return.

"What is going on here?" Tony asks.

Bruce says something, but Clint's already tuning out the conversation.

He leans with his head on James' shoulder, and gets pulled closer. He's soon drifting, content, face pushed against James' neck. He realizes, then, that he's resting his cheek on the scars beneath James' t-shirt and he presses his lips against the cotton. James' arm tightens around Clint.

"Sorry," Clint whispers.

James curls up, turning toward Clint in his chair to lodge his bent leg along the backrests, and shifts until Clint's leaning sideways against his chest. "It's fine," he says, just as quietly, forehead resting on the top of Clint's head.

On the other side of the quinjet, Steve is talking a little too loudly, and Clint realizes he's been distracting Tony from them. He looks up at James.

"I've seen the scars in your file," he murmurs. James needs to know they won't turn Clint away.

James' lips twitch before understanding dawns, and he raises both eyebrows. Clint smiles at him and James nods.

"Yeah," he breathes, "yeah. Good."

Clint is squeezed the next second, James' smile pressed against his forehead.

There's purple glitter everywhere, dry come pulling at his skin under his clothes, fingers entwined with his, and butterflies in his stomach.

Clint is fucked. But in a good way.

~

**Author's Note:**

> [dragonland](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com).
> 
> Feedback is golden. Or, in this case, purple glitter. Gimme.


End file.
